Thinking it Through
by ChasleyVega
Summary: He's always thinking about her. Even when she doesn't think so. oneshot, sorta Troyella. Please R&R.


A/N: The italics are Troy's thoughts, except for the first part which is Taylor and Gabriella's phone conversation

A/N: The italics are Troy's thoughts, except for the first part, which is Taylor and Gabriella's phone conversation. Please R&R.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except maybe the plot. But nothing else.

**Thinking It Through**

_**Gabriella's POV**_

We broke up because of a fight. It was a stupid little fight, because I can't even remember what it was about anymore. I expected him to run back, tell me that he was wrong and ask for forgiveness and for us to get back together like he had done all the other times, but he didn't. I guess he just gave up on us. He felt we were done for good. I was young and stupid, and I took him for granted. We eventually went our separate ways after graduation. He went up to New York, and I went west to California. Last I heard was he moved to Boston and was getting married. To whom I have no idea. But I still talk to Taylor, who is in Seattle, once a week. She's still with Chad, who stayed in touch with Troy until he moved to Boston and got married. Or is getting married. I don't know. I wasn't invited to the wedding, if there even had been one yet. No one else was either though. That makes me feel a little better.

_**Recent conversation with Taylor over the phone…**_

_"We broke up a long time ago, Tay. He probably doesn't even remember me anymore."_

_"You changed his life, Gabriella. No one could ever forget something like that."_

_"Even if, he probably doesn't think about me anymore."_

_**No POV (3**__**rd**__** Person)**_

Little does she know, he thinks about her. He thinks about her a lot. Every hour, every minute, every second of every day. He thinks about her all the time. He sees her everywhere too. He sees her in his wife, in his daughter, in random strangers who happen to have similar features. But no matter how much he thinks of her, no matter how many images of her he sees, nothing can compare to being with the real thing.

Little does she know, that clear across the country, in a Boston hospital, a baby girl is born to Troy Bolton and his wife.

Troy looks over at his wife who is holding their daughter. _She's beautiful_, he thinks to himself. _But not as beautiful as Gabriella. She's smart, but not as smart as Gabriella. She's fun, but not as fun as Gabriella. She knows almost nothing about me or my past. Gabriella knows everything. I love her, but I'm not in love with her like I'm in love with Gabriella._

As he tries to turn his thoughts away from anything to do with his ex-girlfriend, his wife turns to him and says, "Troy, honey. She still needs a name."

"Gabriella," he replies quickly. "Gabriella Marie."

"Gabriella. Gabriella Marie Bolton. Gabriella it is."

He smiles to himself as he watches his newborn daughter sleep. "I love you, Gabriella," he whispers to the sleeping girl.

"Why Gabriella though?" His wife asked him suddenly, breaking the ten-minute silence that had occupied the room while little Gabriella slept. "Why not Sarah, or Lindsey? Why Gabriella?"

He shrugged and turned his head to look out the window. The streets of Boston were crowded, cars honking, people bustling about. Streetlights lit up the sky, so bright you couldn't even see the stars. _You could always see the stars in Albuquerque. _"No reason. I just like the name."

A week later, when everyone is at home, little Gabriella is asleep in her crib while her mother is reading a book in her bed. When the digital clock next to the bed flashes 10:00pm, she puts the book down, turns off the lamp and goes to sleep.

An hour later, a very tired Troy walks through the front door. He is exhausted after practice, then a bar outing with the guys. As he walks up the steps towards their room, he stops at his daughter's door. He kisses her gently on the forehead, then makes his way down the hall towards his room. A small smile makes it's way on to his face when he sees his wife fast asleep on her side of the bed. Too tired to change out of the clothes he is wearing, he its down on his side. He pauses for a moment, as if to think something over.

"I love you, Gabriella," he whispers. And this time he's not talking to his daughter.


End file.
